MiG Ayesa for Dessert: Now that's Yummy!

Last night I had dinner and the perfect dessert: MiG Ayesa in the flesh! And I promptly christen dessert Chocolate Heaven. Sweet!



Blair Mitch admits that she is a shameless pregnant woman obsessing over MiG. A total fan since his Rockstar INXS stint. I remember rushing home on Wednesday nights to vote online! Meeting him, I was reduced to a giggling groupie spewing gibberish.

We actually had a decent talk going except that for the life of me: I can't remember anything! And so you won't find any write up but a series of photos and MiG Ayesa fawning, additional photos courtesy of my work colleague Iya Kalaw's sis Ana.

Special thanks to MTV Jack and Bestfriend Jay (besitos guys!).

P.S. And I don't want to hear any stuff about MiG resembling (a) Joey Pepe Smith or (b) Inno Sotto. He soooo does not!

My Pinoy Palate

My fondest food memories as a child did not consist of fast food burgers, spaghetti and fries. Far from it. At the tender age of six or thereabouts, I recall being seduced by the heady taste of Kalderetang Kambing and Batangas Bulalo.

You see, my father was a transplant from Batangas, and my mother, from Iloilo. How they hooked up sure beats me, considering the sheer geographic challenge behind an encounter. They were newly minted city folk who ate simply, as they were accustomed in the provinces. In fact, they ate very well. Everything was fresh, nothing processed. Their eating habits, they imparted to us kids.

Sundays did not mean a trip to mall. Sundays were reserved for the long trek to my father’s hometown, Santo Tomas Batangas. To visit our lolo and lola and partake of lunch, Batangueno style. And what high style lunch was!

To this day I still remember vividly when they tied a live goat by its hindquarters, upside down on a sturdy tree branch. I watched in a mixture of horror and fascination as my uncle slashed the bleating goat’s neck with a clean swipe of the sharp bolo. The goat bled to its death with a basin catching the dripping blood. And then the goat was skinned and the flesh cut up into sizeable chunks of meat, poured into a deep vat where it simmered for hours in a mix of tomatoes, liver, bell peppers, olives. I sat on my father’s lap, completely riveted as the men drank while waiting for the Kaldereta to be cooked. Another uncle casually sauntered by and poured the contents of a whole bottle of beer in the vat in a display of freestyle cooking. By noontime it was transformed into the best Kalderetang Kambing ever.


**Visiting Farmer’s Market in Cubao, I was pleasantly surprised to see a stall selling goat meat. I bought two kilos and made my own Kalderetang Kambing. A far cry from my dad’s version but it was a valiant attempt just the same. Farmer’s Market is one of the few markets selling goat meat in the metro. It's also the cleanest and the only market I'll consider going to.

Fresh meat in Batangas meant “bagong katay” or freshly slaughtered. There were no shortcuts. Chicken Tinola came from native chickens caught by slingshot. Inihaw na baboy came from formerly treasured pet pigs. My mother consoled me by saying that the pig died for a good cause. Whatever. And after a while I stopped naming them pigs. Or maybe I should’ve named them Liempo or Lechon, so there would be no pretensions as to their lot in life.

My other favorite would be authentic Batangas Bulalo. Somehow it is just so different from all the rest I have tried since. Certainly much better than Rose and Grace or Sosing’s. The meat would have a sweet, smoky flavor – owing to the fact that it is cooked in real wood fire. My father would collect all the bone marrow from big chunks of bone and evenly divide it among us four siblings (my youngest brother Mike was not yet born). We were instructed to eat it immediately before it gets “sebo” or cold. I never really figured why it was called “utak” – maybe because it resembled how brains would probably look like when laid in front of you? For such an unappetizing name, I relished the delicious taste of utak. It was slippery soft, ethereal. I love fois gras but I would say that I prefer utak more.

Nowadays kids are weaned on a steady diet of junkfood. Where bliss means some greasy, uninspired hotdog on a stick. Such a pity because they will never know the rich taste and tradition of Filipino food. As a child I used to hate Sunday farm days with all the slaughtering going on. I hated it that my parents did not bring us kids to normal places, like McDonald’s.

In retrospect, I am glad they did not.

Joe Le Taxi (inspired by Vanessa Paradis’ simpering ditty)

Thursday means cab day because I have to lay off the streets for bearing a car plate number ending in 8, as a courtesy to other motorists. I usually take a cab because my hubby starts his workday in Libis, whereas my office is in Makati, the opposite direction. He picks me up at the end of the day. Oftentimes I enjoy the cab option, mainly because it means a reprieve from the stress of driving my ass to work in record time. Taxis racing at breakneck speed never fail me.



Usually my trusty girl Maricel dials the numbers of cab companies one by one until she hits jackpot. Competition can get pretty ferocious during the morning rush hour but at least you’re assured of clean, safe transport. Most of the cabbies I get can be quite chatty and since I’m not really a morning person, I try to keep the conversation at a minimum – “Good morning sir, I need to go to Makati and please avoid potholes because I am pregnant”. And then I either (a) look out the window and zone out or (b) whip out a book and start reading. I’ve had my fill of annoying cabbies enough to know how to discourage contact. One gave an impassioned soliloquy on the evils of the GMA administration from Ortigas to Makati. Another regaled me with stories of his stint in Dubai and how everything else back here just cannot compare. And yet another kept repeating that I reminded him of erstwhile starlet Mariz (now wife of Ronnie Ricketts). I made a comment that maybe he could’ve picked someone with more recent fame (like, hello!) and unwittingly provided an opening for incessant Mariz trivia sharing. Turns out this guy was a diehard fan of Ronnie and Mariz. Jeez.

Some things I have observed as a habitual Thursday cab rider:

1. Almost always the radio would be playing “Making Love out of Nothing at All” or some other horrible Air Supply tune. Invariably the cabbie would be tuned in to this radio station with the horrible repetitive line, “Kailangan bang i-memorize yan?!”.

2. Cabs always take Edsa. This personally pains me because I have to yet again be subjected to Kris Aquino’s multiple Edsa billboards (I take the side roads to Makati to avoid them). Bench Body with Kris in awkward brassieres layered with sheer, slinky tank tops. Bello with Kris in a corset. And the awful SanSan cosmetics streamers! They line up the posts like an accident waiting to happen. The lady has a one-dimensional expression in all her layouts. I have heard of ham actors but can it actually be possible for one to be a ham model? One cabbie declared his general distaste for la madame Kris and we had a spirited exchange that I actually found highly engaging.



3. Cabbies never have loose change so when you give them a 100 peso bill for an 80 peso trip, expect the 20 pesos to be a goner. Read: always come prepared with loose change in twenties and fifties.

Sometimes I encounter delightful little surprises in my cab forays. Like the time I got a female driver. Okay – I have to say that I first thought she was a he because she resembled a little Erap complete with bouffant hair and wrist cuff. She was courteous, drove expertly (bucking the trend of bad lady drivers, but then again, she ain’t no lady…) and spoke in English (Aba naman! Napa-English rin tuloy ako!). She bid me goodbye and gave me a wink too. What a sweetheart. Cabbies aren’t all that bad.

Here are cab numbers to put on your speed dial. My only regret is that these cabs don’t come with funky names. I recall one that was rather macabre I refused to take. It was named Diana Death.

EMP Taxi: 2935930
MGE Taxi: 3636096
R&E Taxi: 3629090
Basic Taxi: 9001447
24/7 Taxi: 6423525 (Yes they live up to their name)
Avis Taxi: 5320605 (Best for trips to the airport. They have unmarked AUVs with lots of luggage room)

P.S. None of the enclosed pics are mine, I just lifted them off google images. Photos courtesy of www.jimmyoliver.net and members.shaw.ca

Even Crabs can Be Gay

How do you like your seafood? I like mine fresh and grilled, from market to table. Every chance I see fresh Lapu-Lapu fillet in the market it is immediately steamed Chinese style, one of the few dishes I have become adept at cooking (haha- how hard can it get to steam fish anyway?!).

One weekend I had a sudden craving for crabs, preferably drowning in butter and garlic. That, plus grilled panga ng Tuna. And so despite hubby’s protests (he was heavily engrossed playing Resident Evil 4), we were off to the Seaside Market for lunch.



“Seaside” is a misnomer, for the market is right smack in the middle of the Ortigas Town Center. There ain’t no sea in sight, honey. Like its predecessor dampa markets in Roxas Boulevard, Sucat and Libis, the cooking style is Palengke at Paluto. Where you plunk yourself down on a table, ask the waitress to buy you fresh seafood from the nearby market and the restaurant cooks it for a fee.

The waitress asked me if I wanted my crab babae (female) or bakla (gay). Goodness, the gays are really overtaking us ladies on everything – even in one’s choice of crabs! The babae crab possesses aligue (crab fat) while the bakla crab has plumper flesh. Being an acknowledged fag hag, I decided to throw my lot with the badings. It was presented to me fresh and still wriggling, ready for the boiling cauldron.



We also ordered the panga and ofcourse, the old reliable grill standby of liempo. With the mixture of vinegar and chili (otherwise known as Christian’s indispensable suka/sili combo),we were ready for our grilled feast!



I normally like grilled food by the beach, laid out in a picnic table amongst banana leaves and eaten with bare hands. But the Seaside Market will do just fine. After all, it’s just fifteen minutes away from our place.

Seaside Market Palengke and Paluto is beside the Ortigas Home depot. It’s also right next to the Metrowalk Shopping Complex where you can have the latest Season 2 Desperate Housewives vcds for dessert.

Saturday Taco Rendezvous

Hubby Christian visits Greenhills every weekend. Without fail. He drops by his fave game shops and to this day continues to mourn the passing of Virra Mall. I guess it’s therapeutic for him. When I join his weekend outings, I usually plan my separate itinerary. Trailing him after all can be a giant bore.

And part of my Greenhills Must Visit list is Kamico’s Tacos. Located in the top floor of Shoppesville (beside Shoppesville Plus and Quick Change), I have never met a Kamicos taco I didn’t like. I love the fact that it’s beside a tattoo parlor and the Lotto station. Hardly appetizing surroundings, and yet I can chow down at least a couple of tacos in the middle of this bedlam.



On my most recent visit, Christian treated me to a little taco a.m. snack. Yes, an hour before lunch – I’ve already had breakfast and I fully intend to have lunch so I guess this can’t qualify as brunch, haha. We sat beside a father and son duo (see photo), probably waiting for mom to quit the discount stalls. Both seemed like legit fans for they were animatedly discussing the merits of the Kamico’s taco.

“So dad is the taco shell made of Chippy?”

Yes, because what makes Kamico’s particularly special is the taco shell. While it’s not made of Chippy, it’s definitely not a nacho shell either. The closest I can place it to would be several sheets of crunchy lumpia wrapper stuck together. There’s a distinct Pinoy taste to the taco that I find so appealing, a special mix of juicy diced tomatoes, crunchy strips of cabbage, ground beef and soft cheddar.



At 39 pesos a pop, I’d say that Kamico’s Tacos would blast Taco Bell any day. It gives the Pancake House taco serious competition and is definitely a notch above the Mexicali version. Don’t ask me how it compares to the real deal – as far as I’m concerned there are no legit Mexican restaurants this side of town so I wouldn’t know where to start.

There’s also a Kamico’s stall in the Theater Mall food court but I find eating in the Shoppesville place, where you devour your taco perched on a bar stool beside a shop selling Juicy Couture knock-offs a bit more of the “authentic Greenhills experience”.

Nowadays I actually look forward to hubby’s mandatory Greenhills trips, if only for my requisite taco fix.

On Being Pregnant

It is Blair Mitch’s first time to play pregnant. I say “play” because even though I’m nearing my fifth month of pregnancy, I still have not yet fully absorbed it all. Talk about extremely late adaptor!

I am normally adept at other things but I have become a total klutz in this pregnancy business. For starters, I completely flubbed my home pregnancy test. I had to take it three times to finally get convinced that yes, faint as it may seem, that is still a second red line, bringing it to two red lines. Read: POSITIVE.

As my tummy grew, I vainly tried to hold on to my pre-pregnant clothes. I jury-rigged my jeans with rubber band fastenings. I clung to my heels for dear life. But alas, one by one- my clothes gave up on me. One weekend, none of my shorts would fit and I was left with my husband’s pants as my only viable option. He laughed his ass off. I tried to put up a brave front but was dying inside. The shame!

I have also become my absolute worst version: a crying, whining, moody child. My favorite line to Christian would be, “You do it!” delivered with a pout and crossed arms. My memory would fail me at the worst possible times, like forgetting to flush after my numerous pee breaks. Truly, in pregnancy you only get rounder, not sharper. The horror! I waddled like a duck (in wedge heels) always trying to catch my breath and hollering, “Wait up, wait up, wait up! Slow down, slow down, slow down!”. It was enough to make my hubby pull me aside and ask me in earnest, “Who are you and what have you done to my wife?!”

And the eating! I have matched (and probably overtaken) Christian in the eating department. Gone were the days when we would share dishes. Nowadays I always demanded my own and with second helpings too! Finally, my monstrous appetite has been legitimized. I was scarfing down KFC zingers at 9am. I would gobble up everything my well-meaning office colleagues offered me. At one point I found myself clutching popcorn, Boy Bawang peanuts, Macadamia nut chocolates and a Goldilocks ensaymada with a dazed expression. I have even tried to put the eating to good use by starting a food blog!

Most days I can’t wait to start ballooning. Especially when some clueless person would come up to me for the nth time: “Okay are you pregnant or have you had another one of those big lunches?” But just today I was examining my tummy in the mirror and observed that my belly button had turned squinty eyed, like it was threatening to erupt any minute. A definite sign of major things to come. I was happy-scared. Entering uncharted territory! I only had the heavens to thank that I didn’t have a belly ring to compound the situation. I had a brief vision of skinny me in a Taste Me tee. And then Abba started singing, “Those were the days my friend…”



However I would tell you that there are great things about being pregnant too:
1. People are solicitous to you. You will never wait in line nor carry heavy packages again. Someone’s always willing to help (and with a smile too, such rarity these days!).
2. You are generally adored and celebrated for perpetuating the human race. Such bravery! Not a single soul will dare slam a woman for being pregnant.
3. You are licensed to get a whole new wardrobe. Caveat: this is of course assuming you know where to shop. Do yourself and your baby a favor and lay off on the big bows, sailor collars and big floral tent tops. You might as well just get a table cloth, cut a hole in the middle and stick your head in for an instant poncho.
4. You get to have the boobs you’ve always dreamed of! The words “cleavage” and “décolletage” won’t sound foreign anymore.
5. And best, you get to have your own “Mini-me”!

I used to ask people half-jokingly, “So can’t I just order ‘em babies in say, small or medium, like tank tops?”. Normally I’d get shrug and a smile. Until someone came up with a very good answer: “Honey, you can order them but you gotta deliver them too.”

I can almost imagine myself in a room full of (klieg) lights, dramatically turning to my ob-gyne with a breathless stage whisper, “Doctor, I am ready for my epidural!”

Well really, I just can’t wait to hold my very own baby. And if takes the morning sickness, the unbelievable weight gain, the absence of caffeine, wine and Excedrin to combat migraine…I think I’d still go pregnant anyway.

Confessions of a Carboholic

At the risk of being universally panned by the pritikin eaters, South Beach dieters and Atkins followers, I will say it again: "My name is Blair Mitch and I’m a carboholic." I love freshly baked breads and stupendously prepared pastas. I am a rice queen and no meal is complete without garlic rice on the side. Now that I’m pregnant I have acceded to organic, brown rice – but still rice just the same. And yes, I eat my steak with rice, so sue me for being so Pinoy.

However I am choosy about my carbs. Thankfully I don’t really have a sweet tooth so I am not driven to gorge on muffins, cakes, doughnuts and all that. I can be persuaded to eat a slice of chocolate cake but I won’t go for the whole box. And after reading about the horrors of trans fat, I have resolved to limit my doughnut intake to one ring a day. Incidentally, doughnuts are like trans fat bombs. One piece right about sums up your allowable trans fat ration for the day. Wouldn’t you rather make that trans fat serving a helping of those wickedly sinful KFC hotshots? Anyway, I digress.

La Grotta Cucina Italiano



I would love nothing but a good meal of pasta and pizza. And my recent quick fix fave is La Grotta Cucina Italiano, conveniently located near my Makati workplace. Nothing beats a hectic morning than a bolstering lunch of Spaghetti Maremana Rosso loaded with fresh seafood, olives and tomatoes. Or maybe a plate of Capelli di Tartufo con Porcini, heavenly strands of angel hair mixed with mushroom and truffle cream. I find the former to be especially good when paired with simple, uncomplicated thin quattro formaggi and the latter, with some tarty salade of frutti di mare.



The only downside is that after a hearty carb meal, I am almost always fighting to keep my eyes open! The warm noonday sun is just screaming Afternoon Nap! And now that I’m pregnant I can’t really help myself to some extra strong brewed coffee so the rest of the day is an epic struggle to stay awake.

La Grotta is along Herrera avenue in Legaspi Village. It’s right after the dela Rosa – Herrera intersection so keep your eyes peeled for the miniscule signboard on the left.

Bellini’s

During the weekends, my hubby and I would drive to Cubao for an extra-special carbo treat in Bellini’s. This time we went with gal pal Gigi. Bellini’s is practically hidden in the innards of the Marikina Shoe Expo compound. So before eating you can still sneak in some white boots ala Bellestar dancer shopping in decades-old Soliman’s. The compound has also become an artist/boheme enclave of sorts. But seriously – while located in the boondocks, I have never eaten in Bellini’s without having to wait for a table. The place is always packed!

Owned by the fiercely Italian Mr. Roberto Bellini and his Pinay wife, Maria Luisa – the place is practically littered with all things Italian, from pictures of the Italian landscape to a menu with the new Italian pope in the cover. The Pinoy waiters are even known to throw in a few Italian lines here and there.



Christian and I have our Bellini’s favorites. It’s one of the places where we don’t have to look at the menu to know exactly what we want. More of often than not we would start with the Tinapa ravioli in truffle cream (not in the menu but the chef can be persuaded to prep if you so wish), Then the Salamina pizza loaded with oregano, capers, olive and salame and with the thinnest, crustiest homemade dough - haaay, sarap. Christian loves the fresh, creamy carbonara (probably the best in the metro) and their Osso Buco. Order extra fresh baked bread and sop it on the Osso Buco sauce– divine. Gigi also ordered Melanzane e mozzarella ala griglia (grilled eggplant with milky cheese) and it was a delightful discovery.

If you’re in Mr. Bellini’s good graces, he will throw in some vino santo (sweet wine) to complete the amazing meal.

I am not too familiar with Cubao so just make your way to Araneta Center and ask around for the Marikina Shoe Expo compound where Bellini’s is. And then it’s all about Happy Eating!

Now anybody can post a comment!

Yep, that's how pathetic I am about this blog thing. Just this morning I realized that my settings only allow registered users to post comments. And here I was wondering why my number one fan Christian (haha) hasn't been posting didley squat! Talk about amateur blogger!